


Another Miracle

by purple_bookcover



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Post-Canon, Vaginal Sex, trying to get pregnant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28835679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/pseuds/purple_bookcover
Summary: Since the war ended, Dedue and Mercedes have been running a school in the Duscar district of Fhirdiad. Now, they are thinking of having some children of their own. When their heats sync up, they can think of no better place to try for it than right in the school they built together.
Relationships: Mercedes von Martritz/Dedue Molinaro
Kudos: 22





	Another Miracle

The children shout and laugh as they skip away, books clutched in their little arms. Mercedes smiles while she watches them scatter, all those vibrant, eager minds she tries to nurture each day. 

Dedue slips up behind her, hand resting softly on her shoulder. For such a large man, he moves so quietly and gently that he still manages to surprise her sometimes. She reaches back for the hand on her shoulder, interlocking fingers wearing matching rings. 

“They’re growing so quickly,” she says. “It makes me long for the time when they are still all little.” 

“Hm,” he agrees in his deep, soothing rumble. 

“It makes me long for … it makes me imagine what...” She cannot bring herself to say it, not so bluntly, but Dedue has always been a man who understands the spaces between, the words left lingering in comfortable silences. 

Plus, he can smell it on her. 

She knows he can, but he cements her suspicions when he moves his hand from her shoulder to around her waist, pulling her against him, inhaling deeply against her neck. He hums, nosing at her neck, even flicking his tongue out to taste the pheromones she cannot suppress.

It does not help that her heat started two days ago. It helps even less that his rut is synchronized, that they’ve fallen into a mutual rhythm after years of marriage and companionship. 

Now, the scent and pressure is so strong Mercedes is almost dizzy in his arms. Each time he breathes in she shivers, knowing he’s smelling her, smelling her sweat, her need, her desire. Each time he exhales she can taste him all around her. 

She reaches out for the windowsill before her. It looks right out into the streets of the Duscur residential district in Fhirdiad, streets bustling with late afternoon traffic. Parents meet their children on the road home from the school. Children play between the houses. A man drives a cart slowly through the throng. Any of them might look at this window any moment. Any of them might see Mercedes with her hands pressed against the sill, pushing her ass back against Dedue. 

It has been three years since the end of the war. The school has only existed for one of those three years, but it is as much a home as anywhere else Mercedes has ever known. Therefore, it is the perfect place for her to twist around, spread her legs in her long, heavy skirts, and say, “Dedue, I want to carry our child.” 

He pauses, standing there between her knees, obviously hard, but still thoughtful and patient, even in a moment such as this. It is one of so many things she loves about him and one of so many things she knows will make him a wonderful father. 

Still, she swallows, waiting for his response. They’ve danced around this for three years, but this past year more than any other. With little ones constantly about their ankles, they have both felt the weight of this conversation descending onto their shoulders. 

There will be other heats, other ruts, other times, but this one feels so perfect. This moment feels so perfect. Mercedes trembles as she awaits his response. 

Dedue slides closer between her knees. She braces back against the windowsill as he crowds in, so large, so solid, a pillar of a man. His hands rest on her hips as he fits in against her. 

“I would have you bear my child,” he says. “Mine and no one else’s.” 

Her breath escapes in burst. “Yes,” she says. “Yes, please.” 

He leans down, kissing at her neck. Suddenly, those kisses turn sharper. He sucks hard at her skin, lets his teeth sink in just a little, and she knows it will leave a mark, that she’ll have to wear scarves and high-necked dresses for the next week at least. But she moans with pride at being marked so by him, belonging to him. 

He slides down, all the way to his knees, then starts kissing his way back up her thighs as he lifts her skirts. They are heavy and bunch up before he simply tosses them over himself and disappears beneath them. 

Mercedes grips the windowsill as he sucks on her thighs – more marks, mementos of where he’s been, the dozen tiny, wonderful ways he’s made her his own. She moans from each one, savoring the sharpness that snaps hot against her skin. 

It’s such a contrast when he reaches her underthings and slides them down with careful, gentle fingers, fingers that then open her to him, rubbing so softly that it is a tease in and of itself. She moans his name. His reply presses against her, his tongue drawing each letter as it swirls around her cunt. 

When she tilts her head back, it grazes the cool glass of the window and she is reminded of the world bustling by mere steps away. How easily anyone could walk into this humble schoolhouse... 

Mercedes cannot feel any shame or embarrassment, though. What she feels instead is pride. If anyone saw them, they would see him on his knees to pleasure her. They would see the mark on her neck that makes her his. They would see the heat building between them, gushing out after lurking for an entire moon. 

She therefore does not hold back her voice when he swirls around and sucks on her clit, letting out the pleasure shooting up her chest. Her legs tremble even more when he slips out from under her skirts wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. He stays on his knees to loosen her skirts. They pool on the floor and Mercedes kicks them aside, turning again at the windowsill to present her hot, flushed pussy to him. 

He works his way up slowly, hands gliding over the swell of her ass as he stands. Then Dedue’s cock lays heavy against her ass. For a moment, he just grinds against her like that, holding her hips as he presses into the friction. 

They are both boiling too hot for teasing, though. 

“Dedue,” she says. “Please. Give me your child.” 

“You offer me your body so easily,” he says. 

“It is yours to take,” she says. And truly, it is. Body and soul, she is his. And once she carries his seed within her, that connection will only be stronger. 

He murmurs. The heat is strong now. Her proclamation of submission makes him twitch against her. Gentle as he may be otherwise, he will take her now, as he ought, as he must, as she needs him to. 

He angles against her pussy, cock pushing at her wet entrance. She shifts her hips, desperate to have him inside her. The moment he stretches her pussy and glides in she trembles, nails scratching at the wood of the windowsill, thighs quivering. There is more, so much more, but even this crashes against her like a wave knocking her off her feet. Even after all this time, her body aches for him, begs for him, longs to have him fill her and possess her. 

He slides deeper, each push a new delight as her body molds around him, eager to conform to his shape, to grip him tight inside her. 

He pauses fully sheathed, holding her hips, breath hot against her back. Dedue slides his fingers into her short hair, gripping like the reins of a horse. 

Mercedes moans at the thought, at the mere idea of his hands controlling and directing like that. Her body pulses around him, throbbing with desire. 

“You were made for me,” Dedue says against her neck. “Only for me.” 

She tries to push back against him, to somehow take more of him. “I know,” she says. And “yes.” And “Dedue.” 

Her little notes of supplication stir him. She feels it. And at last he begins to move, dragging inside her, setting her body ablaze as he pulls back just to push in again. How is it that she feels more full with each thrust? How is it that each one seems to hit a new place within her and shoot fire up her spine all over again? 

His fingers tighten in her hair as he bucks harder against her. She’s so wet, so tremendously wet. It makes the motion easy. She must be gushing around him already, slippery with her heat. Her whole body has prepared for this, shifting and shimmying to make everything ready for the moment when he would give her his child in this way. 

Mercedes sways her hips, bracing against the windowsill to try to meet him. Her breath fogs the glass. If anyone were to look, they may not see Dedue, but they would certainly see her, face twisted with ecstasy, breath blowing clouds against the window, mouth open to release little shouts of joy. 

She does not care. She neither shrinks away from the window nor quiets the sounds bursting out of her throat each time Dedue slams into her. Let them see. Let them watch as she and Dedue mingle their bodies to create new life together.

Dedue’s fingers curl tighter. A tingle of pain sizzles where he grasps her hair and hip and Mercedes bites her lip to ease the brightness of the sensation. And still, he’s rutting into her, hips jerking, cock beating into her pussy with sweet, burning intensity. 

He grunts as he comes the first time, holding deep, deep inside her as his spend fills her. Mercedes moans, moans, moans at the idea of that seed inside her, filling her, mixing with the life lurking within her own body, sparking a reaction that will bring them both their greatest hope and dream and joy some day.

But he is not finished and neither is she.

He draws back, but the thick knot at the head of his swollen cock keeps him inside her. They are entangled now until their heats subside and judging from the pulse of their bodies, Mercedes guesses that is not any time soon.

He pushes back in, already prepared to fuck her more. It keeps all that precious seed within her. Not even a drop is allowed to escape and run down her leg as he drives into her. 

“I will fill you to the brim,” Dedue rasps behind her. “So there can be no doubt.” 

“Yes,” she says. “Please.” 

He releases her hair, holding only her hips now, but it’s enough to give him the leverage he requires to slam against her. Their skin slaps together. Her own wetness is warm between them. But none of the cum within her sneaks out, Dedue makes sure of that. It is too important to keep every drop inside her.

She meets him on the way to his second orgasm, crying out her own pleasure even as he fills her anew, redoubling their efforts. Gods, there must be so much, so much inside of her now, but that knot keeps it all in, keeps him thrusting into her, keeps them locked together until his presence is imprinted onto her body, onto her very soul. As her orgasm crests, her body clenches and tightens and closes in to meet him, to soak up every drop, holding it greedily within her. It belongs to her and no one else.

Dedue slows between rounds, just a moment to breathe and recover as everything flushes out of him and gathers up to spur him on again. Mercedes is dizzy on his cock now, her whole body shivering and clenching. She does not know how many more times she peaks as he ruts into her. The waves of bliss and warmth and wetness blur into a kind of delirium, a joy almost too big to withstand. She knows she cries his name twice more. She knows that the third time his name loses its shape, becomes just a sound, just noise and heat. She’s sure he understands all the same.

His hands remain on her body the whole time, keeping her up, keeping her steady. Even when Mercedes rests her head against the window – surely, the people outside it have seen them by now? – he just goes on holding her hips as he fucks into her. Those big, steady hands keep her standing when her body feels too overcome to manage even that. But, then, he has always kept her upright, has always lifted her up when she might otherwise have fallen.

Wave after wave, all of it collecting within her, surging inside her with urgent purpose. Her body knows the way better than her mind ever could. It nurtures and protects that thunderous heat, even before it becomes anything more than an explosion of pleasure inside her. 

“Dedue,” she gasps one final time. Her breaths run thin. Her legs are shaking so hard she fears she will collapse despite his strong, sturdy grip. 

He slams in once more, surging to his deepest point, spilling yet again. They shout, voices ringing out in the little school that they’ve built, bodies curling around each other in a final expression of lust.

But it is the last. His cock relents. The heat cools. Their bodies disentangle. And though some runs down her leg after he pulls out, Mercedes is not worried. 

She turns to face him, leaning against the sill for stability. A fine sheen of sweat coats his skin, turning him dazzling and bright in the light filtering in through the window. Mercedes cups his face in her hands and pulls him to her mouth, tasting the ragged beat of his breaths. 

He places his hands on the windowsill and rests his head against her shoulder when they break apart. They both gasp for air. Gooseflesh prickles Mercedes’ skin from the sudden coolness after the storm of heat. She almost feels human again, even with his seed within her.

Dedue stirs, kissing his way up her neck before pushing back to gaze into her eyes. “My love,” he says, “do you think...?” 

She smiles, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. “I cannot be certain,” she says, “but yes. I think so.”

A smile flickers across his lips, but he tempers it, as he so often does. “I-I am sorry if this was hasty. I just...”

“No,” she says. “Dedue, I could wish for nothing more than this.” She takes his hand and sets it on her belly so their fingers overlap atop the life brimming there. “It will be wonderful. A miracle. Like everything else we’ve built here.”

Finally, the smile breaks through his stoic defenses. His face is so beautiful like this. Mercedes’ heart aches at the sight. “Another miracle,” he agrees. 

What more could they ask for?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


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